Elyse
by razzle-dazzle1606
Summary: How a doll turns a little girl into an unstable killer. Anna never had a chance. Warning: Dark, can be disturbing.


**Alrighty! I SWEAR I AM WORKING ON MONGREL AND DARKEST HOUR! I SWEAR I SWEAR I SWEAR! This idea just came to me, and I _had _to write it. You guys know what I'm talking about.**

**This isn't particularly cheery. Pretty dark, actually. But I like it.**

She wasn't _born _a killer. They'd turned her into one. That imbecile never should have gone as far as taking her doll. Oh, they'd called her names all her life, hadn't let her play games. Treated her like she was Rudolph. Maybe that's when she became so obsessed with red. But they went too far when they took her doll.

She smirks. _I showed them._

Her creamy hand drifts over the silk sheets of her bed, rustles under her pillow until she pulls out the doll. "Hello Elyse." She says happily.

The antique doll stares back at her with button eyes. The clumsy stitches Anna had made after the idiots tore Elyse's head off were still there, red thread like blood.

Mama had made the doll for her. Back when Mama was still alive.

Mama had a hard life. People back then didn't like single mothers. Anna had loved Mama. But not for long.

"Don't worry, Anna." She'd said when Anna had come home in tears, holding the pieces of Elyse in her hands. "I'll make you a new one."

But Anna didn't _want_ a new one. She _wanted_ Elyse.

_Mama should have known better than to give me the sewing needle. _She giggles, clutching onto Elyse tightly. Anna had sat in the drawing room, the little seven year old her, with a needle and some thread to fix Elyse. She did, even if she stabbed herself several times in the process.

Mama hadn't been around long after that.

The local constable found her body in the kitchen. It was covered in tiny stab marks, no wider than a sewing needle.

Then, of course, she had to make Wilfred Bowden pay. No one hurt Elyse.

"Ring around the rosy, a pocket full of posy." Anna sings to herself as she recalls the delightful memory. The same strange marks were found on the Bowden boy as Mrs Diviny.

Once she was done with that task, there were many more people she had to teach a lesson to. All the children of the town were horrible to her. They never called her nice names; they shoved her to the ground and laughed at her with their dreadful nasal brays.

They all paid. All of them in one night, all with stab marks so tiny it was if a fairy had made them. Or maybe something even worse.

Naturally, that wasn't enough. The parents shouldn't have raised such nasty children. So she went back to all their houses and burned them to the ground.

"Ashes, ashes, we all fall down!"

The fire crews weren't enough. Teams from the nearest other towns were called in for days afterward. In all the commotion, no one had noticed little Miss Anna Diviny walk out the town gate, a sewing basket and a doll tucked under her arm. If they had, they might have noticed the newfound spring in her step.

Miss Diviny didn't have a hard time finding a new family. She went to London, and hadn't even wandered the streets for a full night before a coach pulled up beside her. The man and woman in it were elderly, kind faced and sweet, and as soon as the tiny Miss Diviny told them that her mother had been murdered, her house burned to the ground, they would hear no protests from her about going home with them. Not that she gave any.

The Knight's were wealthy, with no children of their own. Mrs Knight had never had enough strength to bear a child, as weak as she was with carcinoma of the lungs. Miss Diviny became Miss Knight for all intents and purposes. No one dared be mean to her now. Not with the wealth of the Knight's behind her name.

Besides, there was something about Anna Knight that wasn't to be trifled with.

Mrs Ellen Knight didn't last more than five years after she'd taken in her foster-daughter. Her last night ended in terrible rounds of hacking coughs, blood spattering out of her mouth and landing on the bed sheets. Ellen was a tough woman, even on her deathbed. She took no medicines to try and prolong her existence. "Death," She rasped out to her twelve year old foster daughter, "Comes to everyone. There is no point running from him, dearie. I have had a long life, a good life. I greet Death with open arms."

This was a philosophy that always stayed with the young Miss Knight. She greeted Death with open arms, although she always thought Death was more of a her. Sneaking up on people like that, being so secretive; only females have that capacity. She invited her into other people's lives with warm hellos.

Well, what was left of them.

It wasn't long after that that Mr Knight passed as well. The man was already so frail, all it took was a single cup of tea made with a few belladonna leaves.

Miss Anna Knight, though hardly fifteen, became the most sought after maiden in London. Her wealth, her tragic story of family death, and her beauty were all a man needed to become convinced they were in love.

Of course, she loved this attention. No man could be too forward with her. Many stories were published in the papers about Miss Knight's scandalous parties, but no matter what the press did her popularity never died.

Until, that is, _she_ did.

Anna's pretty red mouth twists into a grimace, her grip on Elyse tightening as the memory comes upon her. "They took me away, Elyse. Right when I was going to get married."

It was just before her engagement to John Swaisbrick was to be announced that the Order found her. She was particularly annoyed with their timing. "Anna Swaisbrick would have sounded so nice, don't you think Elyse?" She sighs in mourning for what could have been. "I chose him exactly for that name. Some other man, Someone Von Something wanted to marry me. Can you imagine me as a Von?" She shudders delicately. "It does not go with Anna. Some horrid name would suit it. Elizabeth, perhaps. Or Dru." She clenches her fists as she imagines them around that upstart paramour of a whore's neck.

She will be next.

Of course, Miss Knight refused to leave London without leaving her mark. She left behind a long, melodramatic suicide note in flourishing cursive writing before burning the Knight Manor to the ground.

Life in the Order wasn't all bad. They were never mean to her. They all called her 'Milady,' and bowed like she was royalty. They took her wherever she wanted to go, bought her whatever she wanted to buy. Her room was soon full of French perfume bottles, Chinese silk dresses, and Italian lotions.

But the best part was when _he _came.

He was so beautiful. She sighs and looks down at Elyse, lying in her lap. "He _does_ love me." She whispers fiercely. "He does he does he _does._"

Elyse continues to look up at her.

She'd almost _had _him, too! He was in love with her, she _knew _it! But that stupid little bitch came along! Why did he look at _that bitch_ like that? More importantly, why didn't he look at _her _like that?

Anna knew in a heart beat that this girl had to go. Christophe was spending too much time with her, getting too close to her, talking to her like he never did with Anna!

She tried to make the bitch leave. And she wanted to, _oh_ did she want to. But Christophe wouldn't let her. In the end, Anna helped her with her 'escape,' helping her sneak away from the guards and out the gates.

Of course the deal with the _nosferat _had already been made.

Christophe was distraught. Anna consoled herself with the thought that he'd be even more so if she ever left.

She looks down at Elyse and giggles delicately. "It's too bad I wasn't there when they killed her, don't you think?" She picks Elyse up and hugs her tightly. "But I got to see all the pictures! That bitch's body hung in a tree like dirty laundry, all twisted and deformed!" Still clutching Elyse, she twirls around her lavish room. "I'd do the same with that…" She doesn't have a name degrading enough for the new girl on the scene. "That _thing_, but too conspicuous, don't you think?"

Elyse continues to be silent. But Anna doesn't care. Elyse is the only friend she's ever had. Who cares if she doesn't say much?

"But I'll make her pay Elyse, don't you worry about that." She promises the stuffed doll. "And I'll do it myself."

Humming, Anna makes her way to her vanity, opens one of the locked drawers with her necklace. She picks out another doll. "Oh Dru." She sits on the vanity stool. "I really wish you'd never been born. You'll wish that too soon." She nods with wide blue eyes at the doll. "Very, very soon."

She reaches over and brings out a sewing kit. She reverently picks out an old sewing needle. She hasn't washed it since that night. When no one else is around, she takes it out and smells their blood on it, hears their screams again. And she is comforted.

Anna draws the needle lightly across the doll's pale face, flicking curly dark hair out of the way. "You will die Dru." She says in a sing-song. "You will _diiiii-eeeee._" Turning to Elyse, she tells her friend, "I wish these things actually worked. That way when I did _this_," The needle is stabbed into the voodoo doll's face, "She would feel it. And when I did _this_," The doll's stomach is attacked, "She would scream. Every time I did this," She drags the needle so hard up and down the doll the fabric rips. Some stuffing tumbles out. "There would be a new scar on that thing that Christophe seems to want so much. And then, when she was finally so scarred up you couldn't even tell she was human, I'd do this." The doll is flung viciously across the room, smacking into the wall and falling to the ground.

Anna stares at it for a moment. Then, very slowly, she reaches into another drawer and pulls out the lighter. Walking over to the doll, she ignites the butane flame. As she reaches down and picks up the miniature Dru a deranged grin lights her manic face. "And when she was finally begging for mercy, I'd do this, right in front of her."

With a cry, Anna plunges the doll into the man-made flame.

She laughs as it burns. She holds it with two fingers until the small fire is dangerously close to her fingers, then walks to her window, undoes the latch, and tosses the burning girl-doll outside. The ground is wet, the fire won't spread. It will land on the ground below the thing's window. Anna hopes she will find it.

She clutches Elyse to her. "Look, Ellie, look! That's what I'll do to her. I'll _burn _her. I'll _burn_ that whore." She laughs with glee. "And if we wake up tomorrow and find out poor little Dru was somehow killed in a fire, body with stabs and scratches all over it?" She sighs and puts a hand to her heart. "We'll just be _heartbroken,_ won't we?"

Anna laughs so hard she has to sit down. She crawls under her silk covers, holds Elyse to her chest. "Goodnight Elyse. Sweet dreams."

_Goodnight Anna. _

**So did you like it? I really find Anna to be an absolutely fascinating character. There's so much that can be done with a character like her. And while I'm disappointed Miss St Crow didn't explore Anna's potential at all, that means I can do it!**

**Let me know what you think!**


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